express all the kindly feelings which it must produce in a mind occupied
as ours often is with graver matters--would be only to repeat what we
said a fortnight since; and so without further premise, we will open
this little casket of gems for the reader. We shall not string names
together, but take a few of them. First, the "Sisters of Scio," a true
story, by the author of "Constantinople in 1828," of two little Greek
girls being saved from the Turks, by a good Christian. Next is "The
Recall," by Mrs. Hemans:--

Music is sorrowful
Since thou wert gone;
Sisters are mourning thee--
Come to thine own
Hark! the home voices call,
Back to thy rest!
Come to thy father's hall,
Thy mother's breast!
O'er the far blue mountains,
O'er the white sea-foam,
Come, thou long parted one!
Back to thy home!


--How appropriate is the story and its sequel; nay, almost as good as
two of Mr. Farley's pantomime scenes at Christmas. "The Miller's
Daughter," a tale of the French Revolution, which follows, is hardly so
fit: even the mention of Robespierre and the Reign of Terror chills
one's blood. "The Sights of London," is a string of "City Scenes" in
verse; and "May Maxwell," and "The Broken Pitcher," are pretty ballads,
by the Howitts. We are not half through the book, and can only mention